


Breaking Point

by Just_Another_Flygirl



Series: 100 Writing Prompts (Tumblr) [1]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Angst, Brother/Brother Incest, M/M, R 18+, Sibling Incest, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 02:11:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19163692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Flygirl/pseuds/Just_Another_Flygirl
Summary: From one of the Tumblr 100 writing themes prompts - picked by Invisibledeity - Prompt #27: "I'm not gonna apologise for this. Not anymore." (Virgil and Scott)





	Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

  * For [invisibledeity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisibledeity/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Thunderbirds Are Go - they belong to the late Gerry and Silvia Anderson
> 
> Author's Note: So, this was a fic that I had initially started last year and then left when I got hit by a combination of writer’s block and lack of time to write due to other things going on. That being said, I felt that I needed to finish it because it was a prompt given to me by my best friend Invisibledeity from one of the Tumblr 100 writing themes prompts (Prompt #27: "I'm not gonna apologise for this. Not anymore.")
> 
> There’s a warning tied to this for mentions of m/m relationships as well as a bit of brother/brother action. So if you don’t like, please hit the back button!  
> If not, I hope you enjoy the fic!

It could be said that considering his line of business, there was not all that much that phased Virgil Tracy. During call-outs, the logistics and demolitions expert often found himself face to face with some very tense and somewhat stressful situations - which was arguably a huge understatement.

"Absolutely _not_!"

However, when it came to certain stubborn siblings...

Warm, chocolate browns met with cold, ice blues and Virgil let out a weary sigh before bringing gloved fingers up to rub at his temples; attempting to quell the inevitable approaching headache.

"It's standard protocol and you know it."

"I said _no_."

Virgil sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. In situations like this, his backup plan would have been to contact John up in Thunderbird Five for verbal reinforcement. However, the space-bound middle brother was currently Earth-side and spending some well-earned, quality time with their chief engineer, Brains, at a bio-molecular conference in Geneva. Or at least that was what they had told the others. Both Scott and Virgil were more than aware that the conference was actually four days less than the time the pair would be absent for.

Speaking of Scott...

Virgil opened his eyes again, hoping that in the few moments he had taken to try and calm his thoughts, the atmosphere would have changed - and for the better. That being said, the frosty glare still aimed in his direction clearly projected otherwise.

So much for being optimistic.

"Be reasonable, Scott," Virgil tried not to growl as that aforementioned headache now started to make itself known. "You've broken your wrist."

"And you've done a great job temporarily stabilising it," Scott replied, feeling equally as frustrated as the two of them stood in heated discussion. "I can still fly One back to base and then you can play doctor once we're both home, okay?"

"Not okay," Virgil rolled his eyes in response before repeating himself. "We follow protocol."

"My 'Bird, my rules, Virg!"

"It's not one rule for you and one for everyone else," Virgil stood his ground, arms folding across his board chest as he straightened his posture. "If the situation was reversed - if it were one of the others - you'd be saying the same thing."

The dark haired pilot tried his best not to smirk as he watched International Rescue's Field Commander open his mouth to bark a retort before faltering in an almost comical way when he realised that he had been caught out. With an exasperated huff, the brunette promptly snapped his jaws shut again, crystalline blue eyes narrowing as he scowled.

"I still think you're over exaggerating," Scott grumbled, his gaze moving from Virgil to their respective Thunderbirds; both craft standing side-by-side and no more than fifty meters from their respective pilots. "It's broken. Not severed. And it doesn't even hurt that much."

"Liar," Virgil scoffed. "Your poker face might be good enough to fool the others, but it doesn't get past me."

Part of him understood why Scott was being so stubborn: If any of them had to relinquish control of their Thunderbird, it was often done with the utmost reluctance.

Lifting gloved hands up in a placating manner, Virgil thought about his next words carefully. "Look. Let's just call Alan and have EOS remote pilot Thunderbird One back home and-"

"What part of 'no' do you not understand, Virgil?"

The response growled through gritted teeth was evidence that Virgil's words had not been as delicate on the subject as he would have liked.

The muscular pilot let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

He had run out of options.

Those warm browns opened again; Virgil's expression now stern as he tapped the IR logo on his utility sash. "EOS?"

 _"I am here,"_ the A.I. chirped, her child-like voice sounding almost inquisitive. _"I am concerned that Thunderbirds One and Two are not already airborne and en-route home to refuel. This delay may affect the efficiency of your next call-out. Especially if taking into consideration that I have been given clear instructions from John to babysit Alan on Thunderbird Five during his absence."_

 _"I heard that!"_ Alan's voice was clearly offended by EOS' statement.

For now, Virgil chose to ignore the youngest's protests. He was tired and already had his hands full with his current predicament. "Yeah, well there's been some... Complications."

EOS' pitch now altered to one of concern. _"Is everything okay?"_

"Just peachy," Virgil shot Scott a stern look, sidestepping to block the brunette's path as the latter attempted to head for Thunderbird One. "EOS, initiate Override Protocol Golf Alfa-"

"Virgil..." Scott growled in warning. "Don't you fucking dare.."

"-Mike Echo Tango Bravo Oscar."

There was a pause over the communications link before EOS decreased her volume and enquired _"Are you certain that you wish to proceed with this command?"_

"Absolutely."

Mere seconds later, the ground beneath their feet trembled as Thunderbird One's VTOL jets fired up. The landing gear retracted smoothly as the sleek, supersonic craft lifted gracefully off the ground.

Virgil kept his expression deadpan as the rear thrusters kicked in, sending International Rescue's reconnaissance ship home without her pilot...

"What the _fuck_ , Virgil!"

... Who was understandably furious.

"EOS!" Scott barked into the communications link on his utility sash with his good hand. "Bring Thunderbird One back _now_. That's an order!"

 _"I'm afraid that I cannot comply,"_ the A.I. replied calmly. _"A specific Override Protocol code has been issued and, according to International Rescue standard operating procedures, cannot be reversed unless authorised by Virgil or Jeff Tracy."_

"I'm not kidding around here!"

 _"Neither am I,"_ EOS replied calmly. _"I would strongly suggest that you return back to base with Virgil in Thunderbird Two. Perhaps it would also be an opportune moment to refresh your memory on certain International Rescue protocols that go above even the Field Commander's jurisdiction?"_

"Screw you, EOS."

 _"I'm not the one that appears to have screwed themselves here,"_ the A.I. all but giggled. _"Thunderbird Five out."_

Virgil stood there patiently in silent observation with his arms crossed. Part of him was starting to regret not administering some kind of analgesia when he had splinted Scott's wrist - the latter having refused outright whilst stating that it would cloud his thinking and that it 'looked worse than it actually felt'. Virgil, being the most medically trained and experienced on the team, was also more than sure that their fearless Field Commander's aversion to needles had played a significant part too - not that he would ever admit to it. But dealing with Scott when he was high as a kite on painkillers was certainly better than dealing with him when he was being this irate and irrational.

"You're an ass."

Virgil blinked at Scott. Even though his statement had not been yelled, the venom was still there. Those familiar blues were fixed upon him like ice-cold daggers.

He let out a heavy sigh. "Don't do this, Scott. Let's just go home, okay?"

"Like I have a fucking choice!"

Virgil rolled his eyes with a sigh. All he wanted to do was have a nice, quiet flight home, shower, grab a bite to eat and then get back to his latest painting.

Enough was enough.

"I'm sick of this..."

Without warning, Virgil used his muscular frame to close the distance between the two International Rescue operatives, forcing Scott against the sturdy hull of Thunderbird Two. He slammed his palms against the unyielding green alloy, trapping the startled Field Commander in place.

"You know what? I'm not gonna apologise for this," Virgil's voice was a low rumble. "Not anymore."

Suddenly, the dark-haired pilot surged forward, crushing his lips against the brunette's. He heard a muffled squeak from the other; Scott's lithe body stiffening in surprise for what seemed like a very long period before finally relaxing again, tentatively responding after a moment’s hesitation. He raised his good arm; gloved fingers bunching in the material of Virgil's flight suit.

Virgil wasted no time as he pulled a small syringe from the lower pouch of his emerald green utility sash. Deft fingers flicked the sterile cap off the end before plunging the needle through the material of the brunette's flight suit and emptying the contents into the right side of his gluteus maximus.

Crystalline blues snapped wide open and Scott emitted a suppressed yelp before forcibly shoving the darker-haired pilot away from him.

"What the hell, Virgil?!"

The latter watched calmly as the taller pilot shoved himself away from the hull, a faint blush still painted across his cheeks as he scowled at Virgil. There was a look of both physical and emotional hurt - maybe even betrayal - in those deep blue eyes before the fast-acting sedative took effect and his legs buckled out from under him.

Moving with a speed that belied his physique, Virgil rushed forward and, in one fluid motion, caught Scott and hoisted him over his shoulder.

He stood there for a moment, listening to the soft breathing from the brunette, before he tapped a few buttons on his wrist panel, lowering the lift from Thunderbird Two's cockpit.

Touching the IR symbol on his utility sash, he opened a comms channel with Thunderbird Five. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Five. Giving you a status update: We're on our way back to base."

 _"Affirmative, Thunderbird Two,"_ Alan responded. _"That was quicker than I thought!"_

Virgil gave a chuckle, giving his unresponsive brother's behind a pat as he strode into the cockpit. "Yeah, well you just need to know how to handle certain... situations."

Alan made a sound of both amusement and disbelief. _"Virgil, you didn't...!"_

"No comment," Virgil snorted, gently settling their slumbering Field Commander into the co-pilot's seat and securing him in place. "You could try and ask him when he comes round but he might be too proud to admit the truth!"

 _"Copy that, Thunderbird Two,"_ Alan giggled. _"Good luck avoiding him when he wakes up! Thunderbird Five, out!"_

Virgil's amused smirk faltered at his youngest brother's words and he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

He really had _not_ thought things through that far in advanced...

 


End file.
